Until Then
by PrettyPoppy
Summary: After leaving Wolfram and Hart behind, Spike contemplates the real reason he can’t return to Buffy. Spoilers through Angel’s “Harm’s Way.” Complete.


Title: Until Then

  


Author: PrettyPoppy

  


Summary: After leaving Wolfram and Hart behind, Spike contemplates the real reason he can't return to Buffy. Rated G. Spoilers through Angel's "Harm's Way."

  


Author's Notes: Okay, so I wasn't all that pleased with the "official" explanation of why Spike couldn't return to Buffy in "Harm's Way." I like this explanation much better.

  


Distribution: Just ask. I haven't turned anyone down yet.

  


Feedback: Yes, please. PrettyPoppy@worldnet.att.net

  


Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Spike belongs to Mr. Whedon. I sure wish he'd start treating him better.

* * *

  


Spike took one last drag from his cigarette before unceremoniously flicking it into the Pacific ocean. The hood of the Viper he was leaning against was still warm from the countless hours he had spent running the engine, driving the car up and down the California coastline. _Damn, but it wasn't supposed to be this way!_ __

  


Eight, or nine, or ten hours earlier, Spike had left Wolfram and Hart for what he had thought was the last time. It had been so long since he had seen Buffy - three long, unbearable months - that he had convinced himself that all he needed on this earth was to see her again. To run to her. He hadn't worried about staying behind to save the world. He hadn't worried about anything. Just getting back to Buffy. In his haste to show Angel up, he had recklessly, and rather foolishly, allowed himself to believe that that was what she wanted. That Buffy would greet him, not only with open arms, but with an open heart. It wasn't true though. Spike had taunted Angel so many times, telling his old sire how much Buffy wanted _him_, Spike. Letting Angel know just how much they had meant to each other. But it was all a lie. The problem was, Spike had told that lie so many times, that he had finally begun to believe it himself.

  


And so, he had run out of Wolfram and Hart, secure in the knowledge that he was doing the right thing, following his destiny, returning to the arms of the woman who loved him above all else. 

  


But she didn't love him above all else, did she? 

  


No. He had forgotten that part. Had blocked it out of his mind, had fallen prey to the thrall of his own Angel-bating propaganda. She didn't love him. She would never love him. Not in any way that involved more than just friendly gratitude. 

  


She had told him that she loved him, of course. In those final moments, when she had believed he was giving up his life for her, when she had thought he wouldn't be there for her to have to make good on her implied promise of love. And he had told her even then, that he knew the truth. 

  


_"I love you."_

  


_"No you don't, but thanks for sayin' it."_

  


He could hear it so clearly in his mind. See the moment so vividly. It haunted him. Above everything else, it was the memory he thought about most, the one that preyed upon him whenever he was alone and was given a moment to think. And that was why he had avoided thinking of late. That was why, after he had become corporeal again, he had run out and spent several days getting drunk. His first instinct should have been to find Buffy even then, but something in the back of his mind had stopped him. Deep down, in the blackest depths of his tortured subconscious, he had known that he couldn't go to her. That as much as she'd be happy to see him, to know that he was alive - or, at least, undead again - he'd be taking something away from her. Her freedom. That precious freedom that she had only so recently won.

  


Buffy, apparently, was somewhere in the south of France, living her life, enjoying her freedom, learning what is was to be a normal girl and not just the slayer. She had to learn how to live all over again, in much the same way that he had been forced to leave his human life behind and learn to live as a vamp. Her life was beginning anew, and the last thing on earth she needed was her quasi-ex showing up on her doorstep, expecting her to make good on her promise, expecting her to love him. She had given her declaration of love to him as a gift, something to be cherished and valued in those final moments before death. It wasn't supposed to last a lifetime. She wouldn't have offered it to him if it had been, that he was sure of.

  


Which left Spike in a sod-all awful place. He had pretty much told Angel to go to hell, and now what? How could he go back to good ol' Wolfram and Hart with his tail between his legs? Stupid really, that he should even consider it. But where else was he supposed to go? And where else could he play his part in averting yet another apocalypse? 

  


Spike sighed with frustration and fished another cigarette out of the pocket of his duster. That was the one thing about not being human - about that disaster with the soddin' cup of Mountain Dew - that he didn't regret. He could smoke all he wanted and didn't have to think twice about it, 'cause it sure as hell wasn't going to kill him.__

  


Life.

  


Humanity.

  


Spike wondered what the point was. He had beaten the crap out of Angel to get his hands around that cup, and for what? The truth was, he _had_ wanted that cup more than Angel had, but he still wasn't quite sure about his own reasons for it. Yeah, taking something - anything - away from Angel, was always fun, but playing games with the possibility of his own humanity wasn't something to be toyed with. If that cup had been real, if that had been some sort of magical elixir and not one of the worst tasting carbonated beverages on the planet, he'd be human now.

  


And Buffy still wouldn't love him.

  


Spike pushed himself up off the car, threw the cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of his boot, grinding it into the grass of the cliff where he was parked, with a little more force than was necessary. The truth was, that he knew _exactly _why he had wanted that cup so badly. Buffy. Even if she didn't love him, as he was now, there was a part of him that hoped, if he made the transition from vampire with a soul to full-fledged human, that maybe she would love him. That if he could give her what Angel couldn't - a real life, with kids, and a dog, and frequent walks in the midday sun - that maybe her choice would be different. Maybe, she would choose him over the Poof. 

  


Maybe. 

  


But probably not.

  


And even if she did, he knew he'd have to face the fact that she had made the choice on realistic issues of life and death and aging, and not love. She'd choose him for what he could give her, not how much she wanted him.

  


Sometimes Spike thought he could live with that, and sometimes he was sure he couldn't.

  


But that would be Buffy's choice. And then, only someday. And then, only if he became human. 

  


Spike took one last look at the ocean. _Ah, the mighty Pacific!_ Not quite as lovely as his own Atlantic, the one he'd looked upon so fondly in childhood, but still it held memories for him. He had crossed that ocean once, on his way from China to the new world. Damn that was a long time ago. A lifetime ago, literally. So much had changed. Back then, he never would have imagined that someday he'd be looking out at that ocean from the other side, his love for Dru a distant memory, his love for a slayer a far too new and bitter one.

  


Spike shuddered, having to physically shake himself out of his reverie. With some reluctance, he opened the car door and slipped down into the posh interior. Resting his head against the back of the black leather seat, he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to collect himself. 

  


Even if he did go back to Angel and company, he sure as hell wasn't making it tonight. He wasn't ready yet for them to know, to know that he was a failure, to know that he didn't have a beautiful blonde goddess just waiting for him to come back to her. He'd probably be getting drunk again tonight. Anything to avoid the reality his heart knew so well.

  


He would go out tonight and get wasted. Then, he'd go out tomorrow night and do the same thing. At some point, he'd make it back to the law firm from hell, and put on a big show, tell them how he had changed his mind, how he needed to help save the world for Buffy, or some rot like that. Whatever. He'd make something up. It didn't really matter. He just couldn't admit to them that it was because Buffy really didn't want him. He couldn't admit that to anyone, except maybe the girl herself. Because, even if she didn't love him, he still loved her, and he'd still do anything for her. 

  


Spike turned the key in the ignition and revved th engine. The raw power of it made him feel a little better. He was going back to LA, and he'd get by, for now. Bide his time, until something gave, or until Buffy stepped back into his life. Because even though she didn't love him, there was still Angel. And she couldn't stay away from Angel forever.

  


Spike knew that one way or the other, he would see Buffy again. But it was going to have to be on her terms. He wouldn't track her down, he wouldn't chase her. Surprisingly, Spike the Stalker was dead. If, by some miracle, some part of Buffy ever wanted him, he'd be there, waiting. 

  


Until then, he'd survive.

  


END


End file.
